


We'll Meet Again

by timetravelbypen



Series: A trip in the box through history [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode: s01e09 The Empty Child, Episode: s01e10 The Doctor Dances, F/F, Mutual Pining, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, WWII, but it's for a good cause, historical fiction - Freeform, listen folks I have bent canon ever so slightly for this one, set around a thematically relevant historical setpiece, slight hints of hurt/comfort, the TARDIS knows what she's about, why have a plot when you can have characters think about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24598591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timetravelbypen/pseuds/timetravelbypen
Summary: The Doctor and her fam are back travelling across the stars after her miraculous - and unexplained - survival on Gallifrey and escape from prison. But when a bit of careless flying lands them in the same patch of the London Blitz the Doctor has visited once before, she'll have to confront what she's hiding from.
Relationships: The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Series: A trip in the box through history [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1707598
Comments: 32
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

The lights in the console room shone bright orange, warm and comforting like candlelight, but they did not calm the woman racing round the controls of the ship, flicking every switch and turning every dial, never for a moment staying still.

The Doctor and her TARDIS, speaking a language more alien than the rest of them would ever know.

Her fam watched, the slightest bit apprehensive. She had been like this ever since her miraculous reappearance. Yaz, Ryan, and Graham had spent six months after their return from Gallifrey thinking her dead, until one night, she and Captain Jack Harkness had turned up on Yaz’ doorstep at three in the morning, scuffed and dirty and battered, and promptly passed out.

The Doctor had slept for two days. Jack had recovered quicker and hadn’t stayed long or explained much, just that he’d helped her bust out of a high-security prison halfway across the galaxy. And once the Doctor woke up, she didn’t explain a thing. She had apologized, and accepted crushing hugs from every member of the fam, and eaten her weight in custard creams, but never explained.

And she still hadn’t. Infuriating though it was, Yaz was used to the Doctor not explaining – they’d been treated to it quite a lot between her reunion with the Master and their final trip to Gallifrey – but this was different. Worryingly different. Before, the Doctor had gone dark and quiet sometimes, falling unexpectedly into sullen silences, taking trips without them that just leached the light from her eyes a little more every time.

Now, though? The Doctor hadn’t stopped moving since she’d woken up. She was all smiles, racing with them from one end of the universe to another, sharing with them the brightest and shiniest things in her magic box of tricks. And of course they let her, glad to have her back, glad to have her whole and alive, glad to witness the wonders of the universe at her side.

But whenever one of them tried to ask what had happened, the smile on her face never faltered, but her eyes went blank, just for a second, as though no one was home. That scared Yaz. It scared them all.

For now, they’d all decided to keep an eye on her, to remind her every so often that they were there for her, that they loved her, whatever she needed, but not push too hard.

Times like this, though, when she whirled around the console as though she’d die if she stopped moving, it was hard to pretend that everything was all right.

“All right, Doc?” Graham asked, his voice calm and soothing, even though Yaz could clearly see the worried quirk to his brows.

“Brilliant,” the Doctor replied, flashing them a dazzling grin. “Where are we off to next?”

“You know,” Yaz said casually, “ we could… I dunno, rest somewhere? Find a nice beach, watch some sunsets?”

“Such a romantic, Yaz,” the Doctor replied, and Yaz blushed all the way up to her ears. “But nah, we’ve seen sunsets, plenty of sunsets, they’re nice an’ all if you want to sit still…”

“Sitting still’s all right,” Ryan pointed out.

“Ah, you lot, I know what you’re doing, and you don’t need to,” the Doctor said, poking her head round the console to actually meet their eyes for a moment. “I said I was all right, didn’t I? I’m always all right.”

“If you say so, Doc,” Graham said. “But you know-”

The Doctor cut him off with a wave of her hand. Then she caught sight of something on her screen and her eyes went wide with a flash of real glee, and Yaz felt the panic that squeezed constantly around her heart these days ease, just a little bit, at the sight.

“Oh, that’ll be brilliant, that will,” she said, twisting a few dials within reach while still keeping her eyes on the screen. “VE Day! Massive party all across London, you’re gonna love it. Enough snacks to keep even you happy, Graham!”

“Well, that’s a bit of all right then,” Graham replied good-naturedly.

“I don’t think there’s such a thing as enough snacks to keep you happy, Granddad,” Ryan said, nudging Graham gently with an elbow.

“Sounds like fun, Doctor,” Yaz said, cutting off Graham’s indignant retort.

“Let’s get a shift on, then!” the Doctor announced, reaching for a custard cream.

She’d just bitten into it when all hell broke loose.

The console sparked and spit, and the ship rocked sharply, throwing all of them save the Doctor to the floor. She hung tightly to the console with one hand and batted at the screen with the other, glaring through puffs of smoke.

“Doctor!” shouted Yaz, doing her best to push herself up along one of the crystalline columns. “What happened?”

“Something’s gone haywire, I don’t – ow!” she snapped her hand back away from another burst of sparks. “C’mon, old girl, don’t do this to me now… what d’you mean, crossing my own time stream, I’m not-”

The ship lurched again, throwing even the Doctor free, and sent all of them screaming and sliding towards the doors. With one last angry jolt, the TARDIS flung its doors wide and spit them out into damp night air where the four of them landed in a heap on cold cobblestones. Yaz paused a moment to catch her breath, and as her head stopped spinning, she realized with equal parts mortification and delight that the Doctor had curled tightly into her side, tucking her head into her shoulder, her features squished closed as though bracing for yet another impact. Was she expecting one? She’d been so battered when she’d returned to them… had their crash landing tripped across a trauma she refused to tell them?

“Blimey, what was that about?” Graham asked, gingerly pushing himself up and blinking into the dark.

“Where are we?” Ryan asked, his voice soft as though he were afraid of startling anything. One never knew what they might wander into, after all…

But the Doctor hadn’t moved.

“Doctor?” Yaz asked, daring to reach up a hand and touch the other woman’s shoulder. “Are you hurt? What was that?”

“Fine,” she said, breathing slowly. “I’m – I’m fine.”

She sat up then, and Yaz reluctantly let her hand slip away, fingers ghosting for just a moment down the slippery material of the Doctor’s blue grey coat. She blinked – had the Doctor just shivered at her touch?

No, she was imagining it. Besides, now was hardly the time…

Another beat, and the Doctor had shaken herself and sprung back to her feet and darted up to the TARDIS doors, just in time for them to slam firmly in her face. She reached out and grasped at the handle, rattling it, but it wouldn’t budge. The key didn’t turn in the lock.

“What, so you’re cross with me for wanderin’ just a _bit_ close to my own time stream and then – what, you have a tantrum and pitch us in the middle of it?” the Doctor snapped, whipping her sonic screwdriver out from a pocket and pointing it at the door with a determined whir. “How’s that supposed to help, exactly? Let us back in, will you, please?”

Yaz, Graham, and Ryan all pushed themselves to their feet, brushing themselves off. Behind the Doctor’s back, they shared a round of silent glances. They didn’t need words for this, not anymore.

_Is she all right?_

_What’s going on?_

_Where even are we?_

_How long are we gonna be stuck_ this _time?_

“All right, all right, I’m sorry, I – look, can you let us back in? We’ll be off and it’ll all… oh, c’mon, really? You’re just going to leave us out here?”

After a moment staring down her ship like a cross parent, the Doctor deflated, turning and slumping against the unbudging doors.

“What happened?” Ryan asked. “Are we gonna get stuck here forever?”

“Not forever,” the Doctor replied with a sigh, sounding so defeated it broke Yaz’ heart a little. “Just for about… fourteen hours, I’d say?”

“Fourteen hours? What for?” Graham asked.

“And – where is ‘here,’ anyway?” Yaz added.

“The TARDIS got a bit… cross with me,” the Doctor said, looking up at them with an apologetic scrunch to her nose.

“You can say that all right,” Ryan murmured, rubbing at a sore shoulder.

“‘Here’ is London. I’ve been to this time before, well, another version of me was here. Trying to take you all to VE Day, I got a bit careless with the flying, wandered just slightly into my own time stream… crashed us all here.”

“So… you’re running around somewhere else?” Yaz said. “There’s another Doctor here? Another TARDIS?”

“Yep,” the Doctor replied. “You wouldn’t recognize me, though. Had a different face then. Actually quite a similar accent this time around, funny enough.”

“So – what, can we go ask this other you for help, then?” Ryan asked.

“Absolutely we cannot do that,” the Doctor said. “Two of me in one place, it’d be a nightmare. All sorts of things go wrong, meeting your past self. Have to be careful.”

“So we just… wait,” Graham said. “In the middle of the night, with nowhere to go? And – Doctor, you didn’t say _when_ in London.”

“Well…”

For a moment, the sheepish look on the Doctor’s face worried Yaz. And then the alarm began to sound, and she was terrified.

It was an air raid siren.

It was a particular, unmistakable klaxon; of course they’d only ever heard it in movies but hearing it now, for real, sent ice running down Yaz’ spine.

“You’re kidding me,” Graham said, eyes wide. “We’re in the middle of the bloody Blitz?”

“’Fraid so,” the Doctor replied.

“And – all we can do is wait it out?” Ryan asked.

“Yep.”

Yaz bit back a sigh. This was not the rest she had wanted, but it was the rest they’d gotten. Usually the TARDIS could be relied upon to do what the Doctor needed, if not exactly what she wanted, so… was this little tantrum on purpose, somehow?

“Right,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “So – what, we’ve got to find some shelter for the evening. Where are we, anyway? Where in the city?”

“S’all right, Yaz, nothing bad’s going to happen,” the Doctor said, brightening a bit. She pushed off from the TARDIS doors and sauntered down the dark alley they’d crashed into and onto the deserted main street. “I’ve been here before, like I said. We’ll be fine, the other me will sort out anything that needs sorting, and we’ll be off again in no time. Just don’t talk to anyone in a gas mask asking for their mummy.”

“That is… concerningly specific,” Ryan muttered.

“Fourteen hours, though,” Graham said. “That’s a long time when there’s German bombs falling on your head, innit?”

“Such worriers!” the Doctor replied, dancing ahead of them a few steps before turning back to face them with a bright smile and a flourish of her hands. “We’ll find a nice spot to sit this out, and everything’ll be aces.”

“You, sitting still?” Ryan scoffed, only just loud enough to be heard over the siren.

“Oi!” the Doctor snapped back, but for once she looked like her usual self, happy to be teasing back and forth with her fam. Yaz let her shoulders relax. Maybe this would all work out for the best.

“I wonder if he’s here,” she muttered idly.

“If who’s here?” Ryan asked.

“Prem,” she said, remembering a scene very different from this one, contrasting a wedding under a sunlit sky with a dark city hiding from falling bombs. “He was a soldier in the Second World War… maybe he trained here, or-”

“Yaz, don’t,” the Doctor said firmly. “Don’t go looking for him. Crossing your own history-”

“Is bad, I know,” Yaz finished. “Trust me, I learned my lesson last time. I were only wondering.”

“Besides,” Graham added. “Aren’t you the one trespassing on your history this time, Doc?”

“All right, yes, but not on purpose!” the Doctor replied. “Besides, I’m an old hand at this time and space business. I know what I’m doing. I promise you, nothing bad’s going to happ-”

After, Yaz wasn’t sure she could properly describe the roar that cut off the Doctor’s insistence that everything was fine. It was as though sound had blacked out the whole world for a second. And when it blinked back into being, Yaz, Ryan, and Graham had been tossed to the ground a few feet away, singed and coughing, eyes stinging from the smoke, ears ringing. All they could see was a hole in the street that had not been there before.

And the Doctor had vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

“Doctor!”

Yaz’ voice was cracked with smoke and fear. She bolted towards the hole in the ground the Doctor had vanished into before either of the boys could tell her to stop, to be careful.

She flung herself down at the edge of the pavement, peering through the wreckage, refusing to listen to the voice at the back of her head telling her that no one could possibly have survived that.

She had lost the Doctor once. There was no way she was going to lose her again.

“Doctor!” she shouted again before her voice shattered into coughs. After a quick glance around that revealed no one other than her 21st century compatriots, she fished her phone out of her pocket and used it as a torch, sending a small beam of bright light into the hole. For aching, breathless seconds, there was nothing to see but smoke and debris, until at last the light fell upon a patch of rainbow against dark pink.

“She’s down there, I can see her,” Yaz said to Graham and Ryan as she scrambled to her feet.

“Yaz, wait-” Graham said, but Yaz was already leaping down into the hole.

“I’m coming, Doctor,” Yaz shouted into the dark, the small torch beam ahead of her as she scrabbled across broken cobbles. “Hang on, I’m coming!”

The Doctor’s face was hidden in a mop of blonde hair currently getting wet from a broken pipe. Hovering around her like mist was a faint cloud of golden energy. She remembered it so clearly from the day they’d met, her lying unconscious on Graham’s sofa as regeneration energy pulsed around her, knitting her back together. Changing her from the person she’d been before to the one she was now.

“I just got you back,” she said, her voice breaking. “I’m not letting you go, not yet.”

Yaz jumped in the way of the spurts of water, feeling the cold drip down her neck instead, and started brushing rubble off the Doctor’s arms and legs, reaching up with shaking hands to check for a pulse.

_Please please please…_

The Doctor groaned as Yaz’ hand reached her throat; as battered as she looked, her pulse thrummed strong against her fingertips, and Yaz almost cried with relief.

“’M’fine, Yaz,” the Doctor murmured.

“’Course you are,” Yaz said, the smile spreading across her face genuine. “I’ve got you.”

Yaz let her thumb caress softly across the Doctor’s sooty cheek, and the blonde let her head fall into the support of Yaz’ palm, something like peace spreading across her face as she leaned into the touch.

“Right,” Yaz said, still not taking her hand away, looking round the dark of the hole they were in and the worrying fizz of regeneration energy still hovering around the Doctor. “Let’s get you out-”

And then she hissed through her teeth as images began hurtling through her head. Strange memories that weren’t her own. A prison cell, dark and lonely and forgotten. Gallifrey on fire. And faces, so many faces, all shuffling past faster than she could focus on, except one. A girl with dyed blonde hair and a Union Jack t-shirt, running down streets that looked just like the ones they’d emerged onto only a few minutes ago. A girl holding the hand of a man wearing a leather jacket, with the kindest smile and biggest ears Yaz had ever seen. A girl whose name was Rose Tyler…

The Doctor flinched, tugging her head away from Yaz’ hand, and the images flooding through her disappeared as quickly as they’d come, leaving her reeling in the dark.

“Sorry… I, sorry, that felt like prying, I just-” she stammered, not sure what to make of what she’d just seen.

“S’all right,” the Doctor said, pushing herself up, groaning through gritted teeth as she did. “Slightly telepathic, me. Being back here… then getting a bit blown up… s’brought a lot up to the surface, I suppose. Should be me apologizin’. Nobody wants to see all that.”

_I want to_ , Yaz thought. _Please let me in, Doctor. Please let me help._

“A _bit_ blown up?” she said instead, making herself laugh. “C’mon, let’s get you up and out of here.”

She hauled a wobbly Doctor to her feet, pulling one of the Doctor’s arms over her shoulders and hooking her own around the Doctor’s waist. Before diving headlong into the hole, she hadn’t exactly thought out how she was going to get them both out of there, but she and the boys would figure it out, surely.

“Ryan?” she shouted up into the sky. “Graham?”

“You’re all right!” Graham shouted back, his eyebrows shooting nearly up to his hairline. “Doc, you’re a bloody miracle, you are.”

“Here, round this side you can walk most of the way up, we’ll help…” Ryan said, waving to them from the other side of the hole.

Yaz and the Doctor walked up crumbling bits of pavement and what seemed like half a storefront until the Doctor was within arm’s reach of the boys. Yaz gave her a push and let them lift her out before scrabbling up behind them, her head still spinning from everything she’d seen.

“Thanks,” the Doctor said, slumped against Ryan’s side. “I’m all right. I’ll be all right.”

“Nonsense, cockle, we’d better get you inside before ‘nothing bad’ happens again.”

“Where are we?” Yaz asked, peering around the dark street.

“We’re – this is Fleet Street, look!” Graham said excitedly. “I know just the place, c’mon.”

“Granddad, this is World War Two,” Ryan said, tugging the Doctor along as Graham led the way. “You’re old but you’re not that old, how do you know a place?”

“I may be old, son,” Graham said, ushering them onwards, “but London’s older.”

Graham turned off Fleet Street and into an alleyway, gesturing towards a stained wooden door under an unlighted round pub sign that read ‘Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, rebuilt in 1667.’

“Ohhhh,” Ryan said.

“Graham, I don’t want to eat pies on Fleet Street,” the Doctor moaned, shaking her head blearily.

“No pies, I promise,” Graham said. “We’ll just get inside and safe underground and let you rest it off, eh?”

“Underground?” Yaz asked, but as soon as Graham led them inside, she understood.

The pub had dining rooms on the ground floor and a set of stairs winding upwards, but any light and sound was coming from the narrow flight that swirled downwards into the basement. There weren’t all that many people in the lower levels – all the better for them – but there were a few, sitting clustered around tables lit by candlelight and glancing nervously at the ceiling for the sound of falling bombs. When they reached the deepest part of the pub, where there were long communal tables and the bar itself, several heads turned as they came in.

“Blimey, you lot look like you’ve been through the wringer,” the bartender said, eyes nearly popping out of his head. “You all right there?”

“Fine,” Graham said, returning a gentlemanly smile. “This one just had a bit of a run-in with some falling debris, but we’ll be all right.”

Ryan set the Doctor down in a chair near a wall, which she leaned against gratefully. Yaz slunk into the chair beside her, reaching out to hold her hand, stopping herself only when she remembered the faces swimming through her head. The Doctor wouldn’t want her to go peeking into whatever that had been again.

“Jesus, love, you need looking after,” the bartender said, twitching his moustache in concern at them. “Sir, Albion Hospital’s not too far, I’ll help you get her there-”

“No,” the Doctor said, her eyes snapping open, suddenly very alert. “Not there.”

“Ah, thank you very much all the same, but she’ll be all right,” Graham said. “Trust me.”

“If you insist…” the bartender said, looking suspicious. “Can I get you anything?”

The fam glanced at each other for a moment before nodding. They needed a place to wait; it might as well be here.

“Oh, go on then. I’ll have a pint, Ryan will too.”

“Just water for us, thanks,” Yaz said.

“And a whisky,” the Doctor added.

“Really?” Ryan asked as soon as the bartender had gone out of earshot. “Is whisky the best idea right now? What if you’ve got a head injury?”

“I don’t get drunk,” the Doctor muttered, rifling through her infinite pockets in search of period-appropriate money. But the bartender waved her away, setting their drinks and a plate of Welsh rarebit slices down in front of them.

“Least I can do if you won’t let me take you to hospital,” he said, still looking worried.

“I’ll be all right, I promise,” the Doctor said. “Thank you.”

Once he’d gone, the Doctor downed her whisky in one gulp, making the fam startle back a bit. Then she held her nose and puffed up her cheeks, like she was trying to clear out her ears after getting off an airplane. If she hadn’t been so worried, Yaz would have laughed – the Time Lord never failed to surprise them, that was certain.

Whatever she’d done, it seemed to have worked; when she let out her breath and opened her eyes, she looked steadier, less pale. Even so, she sat far more still than she had in weeks. They all sipped at their drinks and nibbled at their toast, shooting glances at the Doctor periodically, and apparently without much subtlety.

“I can see you all looking at me, you know,” she said with a huff. “I’m fine, honestly.”

“I take it whatever the other you’s up to, it’s at Albion Hospital?” Ryan asked.

“Yes,” she said, dragging her finger through a puddle of condensation from her water glass, tracing circular patterns across the wooden tabletop. “Nasty business. Us stumbling in’d just make everything worse.” She paused, smiling the kind of soft smile Yaz hadn’t seen on her face in ages. “Still, it ended up being a good day. A very good day. One of the best.”

They settled into a bit of a lull, listening for any more disruptions overhead and the soft murmurings of the few patrons in the room with them. In spite of being caught before, Yaz kept glancing towards the Doctor. She was quiet as Graham told stories about the London he knew growing up, but not quiet the way she’d been when she’d been hiding everything about the Master from them. Not shut down. She looked pensive, like her mind was light years away from where her body sat. Maybe it was.

“Doctor,” she whispered, edging closer to her as the boys kept on talking. “Who was she? The girl I saw. Rose.”

When the Doctor met her gaze, Yaz thought she might just drown in the sadness she saw in her hazel eyes.

“I used to travel with her,” she admitted softly. “I’m out there with her right now. Me-that-was, that is. I think… I think you’d have liked her, Yaz.”

“What happened to her?” she asked, knowing she was pushing too far, knowing the question was going to be too much, needing to ask it anyway.

Wondering if the Doctor would catch the second question hidden in her words – would what happened to Rose happen to her too?

“She’s gone,” the Doctor answered. “It was a long time ago.”

The Doctor’s voice was flat, tired; it didn’t invite any more questions, but Yaz was bursting with them. There was _so much_ she was desperate to know, so much she wished the Doctor trusted her enough to tell them. To tell _her_.

So much she wanted to tell her in return.

But it was never the right time, was it?

“Herbert!” the bartender called over their shoulders jovially. “Back on fire watch again tonight?”

Yaz turned to see a thin white man in a dark suit and hat come through the door, a leather box held by a strap around his shoulders.

“Back again, Alfie, you know it,” the man called Herbert said, his bushy eyebrows waggling. “Just the one before I go up, if you please.”

“Herbert…” the Doctor muttered, suddenly sitting up. “Herbert, Herbert, fire watch… why do I know that?”

“Something the matter, Doc?” Graham asked.

“Not the matter, just… argh, why can’t I remember? My head’s all jumbled up still…”

“Yeah, getting blown up’ll do that to you,” Ryan teased, his good-natured tone tinged with worry.

“Mind if I take this seat?” the man called Herbert said, gesturing with his pint at the chair at the end of their bench table.

“’Course not,” Yaz said.

“This is going to sound daft,” the Doctor said, “but would you remind me what the date is?”

“Had a few, have you?” Herbert said, raising an eyebrow at her. “It’s December the 29th, 1940.”

“Oh!” the Doctor cried. “You’re Herbert Mason!”

“… yes,” the man said, startled. “And who might you be?”

“I’m the Doctor,” she said. “Big fan, massive.”

“I wasn’t aware newspaper photographers had much interest taken in them, but thank you, Doctor. That’s very kind.”

He sat down with a smile, raising his glass to his lips. Suddenly, the smile wiped off the Doctor’s face and she scrambled to her feet.

“Hang on a tic, is that your camera bag there?” she asked, pointing behind him.

Herbert set the glass down and looked around to where she was pointing.

“Where?” he asked. “No, I – I had it with me when I came in…”

The Doctor elbowed up and very carefully shoved his glass off the table in the guise of showing him something.

“Ah, sorry, so sorry!” she said, all smiles in the face of Herbert’s consternation. “Let us get you another one, Graham will you help?”

“’Course I will,” Graham said without hesitation, taking Herbert by the arm and pulling him back up to the bar and out of sight.

“Doctor, what was that about?” Ryan asked, but the Doctor shushed him, dropping to her hands and knees around the spilled liquid, which started to hiss and sizzle along the stone floor. Yaz gasped.

“That,” the Doctor said, “is trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone who's been in London more recently than 2012 know if the Cheshire Cheese still has that really good quiche? Good memories. Actually managed to finish a whole pint of cider there for the first time and then wobbled down Fleet Street after some friends who walked FAR too quickly... anyway. 
> 
> Some more intrigue has been revealed! I hope very much you're enjoying this. Subscribe to keep on top of updates, comments and kudos are writer confidence fuel in These Times, and if you're looking for ways to help make These Times a bit better, check out https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co 
> 
> Thanks so much, hope you're all well!


	3. Chapter 3

“Right,” the Doctor said, waving her sonic at the puddle on the floor, which turned a sickly green color but stopped hissing like it was boiling. “I’ve neutralized it, but that is some pretty serious poison. And it’s not from anywhere around here. How many aliens were running around the City on the same day in 1940, honestly?”

“Aliens?” Yaz asked. “That man was an alien?”

“No, not him,” the Doctor said. “Not the bartender either, or he’d have done something dodgy to our drinks as well. Kitchen staff, maybe? But no, Herbert Mason took one of the most important photos of the war… lemme see your phone, Yaz.”

“Here?” Yaz whispered, pulling it discreetly out of her pocket all the same.

The Doctor snatched it up, searching through it under the table for something and then beckoning Ryan and Yaz over once she’d found it. A black and white photo filled the phone screen, showing the dome of St. Paul’s cathedral shining like a beacon of hope through clouds of smoke and flame.

“I’ve seen this before,” Ryan said excitedly. “That photo’s in like, every history book ever.”

“And that man over there,” the Doctor said, nodding towards Herbert, “is the one who takes it. Tonight, sitting on the roof of his newspaper’s building on fire watch, not far from here. The City is burned badly, most of the streets around the cathedral burn to the ground, but not St. Paul’s.” Her face is alight with the kind of joy she only gets telling a stirring tale like this, and Yaz is drawn in, bewitched by each word. “Fire wardens on the roof keep the incendiary bombs clear, all night long, and Herbert catches this photo. It becomes a symbol of hope for all of you, shining through the dark like that. And symbols of hope matter, so much, particularly when everything else seems so grim.”

“Why would someone try to poison a newspaper photographer?”

“To stop him taking this,” the Doctor said, shaking the phone at them both before handing it back to Yaz to hide away in her pockets again. “To stop that symbol of hope from getting through.”

“Who would do that?” Ryan asked, his eyes darting around the room to scan the few other patrons still lingering there.

“Reckon whoever it was, they’re long gone,” the Doctor said. “’M’not smelling anything out of the ordinary, anyway. There’s always idiots running around messing with the time stream, trying to make it so the Nazis win. But we’re bloody well not going to let them, are we?”

“Hell no, we’re not,” Ryan answered. “What do we need to do?”

“We’re going to make absolutely certain that Herbert takes that photograph.”

Graham and Herbert returned then, each sporting a fresh pint and chatting like they were old friends. Yaz smiled; Graham really could turn on that bus driver charm and talk to anyone, so easily. She wished she had that gift, sometimes.

“Really am sorry about all that, Herbert,” the Doctor replied. “I’m dead clumsy sometimes.”

“Water under the bridge, ma’am, I assure you,” he said, waving a hand. “I mustn’t stay long before I start my evening watch, at any rate.”

They all chitchatted pleasantly for another few minutes as Herbert drank his pint, Ryan asking excited questions about the man’s camera the whole time, which he seemed happy enough to answer. Finally, he finished his drink, tipped his hat to the ladies, and made his way out the door.

“Right,” the Doctor said, getting to her feet about thirty seconds later. “We’re following him.”

“What?” Graham asked. “But why? I thought we were finding somewhere to stay safe for the night.”

“Change of plans!” the Doctor crowed, charging out the door.

“Small bit of ‘keeping the course of history on track’ fell in our laps,” Yaz explained as the fam followed the Doctor following Herbert Mason.

They followed Herbert along two streets, winding closer to the Thames, until he stepped into an ornate, square building with long, tall windows.

“Right,” the Doctor said, “that’s Northcliffe House, he takes the photo from that rooftop. We’ll go up here,” she gestured at the building just across an alleyway, “so that we can keep an eye on him, make sure there isn’t any more interference.”

“Hang on a minute,” Graham said, “our plan is to spend the night on a rooftop.”

“That’s right.”

“All night.”

“Yep.”

“In the middle of the bloody London Blitz?”

“That’s exactly right, Graham, five points,” the Doctor said. “Ryan, Graham, with me. Yaz, I need a favor. D’you think you can get back to where we left the TARDIS?”

“It weren’t that far,” Yaz said, “yeah.”

“I need you,” the Doctor said, rummaging through her pockets, her tongue sticking out as she did, “to take this back to the TARDIS and see if you can get it inside.”

“But I thought-”

“It’s possible this won’t work,” the Doctor conceded, finally fishing out what she was after: a small round device that looked a little bit like a light bulb. “She wasn’t happy with me when we got here. But if y’ask nicely, she might let you in. I think she likes you. There’s a plug for this right over the biscuit dispenser. If she lets you in and this works, it’ll send me back a signal if there’s any other alien activity going on ‘round here.”

“I thought you said whoever poisoned him’s long gone?” Ryan asked, peering over at the device in the Doctor’s hand.

“Probably is,” the Doctor said. “Can’t take that chance, though. Oh, hang on a minute…” the Doctor fished out her sonic and pointed it at the device for a moment, squinting at it till she was satisfied. “That should cancel out everything that’s going on with the other me on the other side of town, don’t want us to go running into all that.”

She held out the device and placed it in Yaz’ outstretched hand, very careful not to touch her skin. Yaz frowned; she hoped that whatever had happened earlier that let the Doctor’s memories leak into her head didn’t mean that the other woman never wanted to hold her hand again.

“There and straight back here, Yaz,” the Doctor said, her golden-hazel eyes wide and worried in the dark. “It’s a dangerous night. Can’t have you taking risks, all right?”

“There and straight back, I promise,” she said, nodding. “You two, keep an eye on her, all right?”

“Be careful, Yaz,” Ryan said, and Graham nodded, his mouth a grim line.

“I’ll be right back,” Yaz said, offering them all a bright smile before she took off into the dark, retracing their steps.

It was fortunate that the route was a fairly straightforward one; the night was deathly dark, and Yaz wasn’t familiar with London even in the twenty-first century. But she took each street at a brisk jog, careful to peer around any corners in case of anyone lurking behind them. She swallowed a hard lump at the sight of the hole that had swallowed the Doctor earlier, tried hard not to think of yet another too-close brush with death, tried very hard not to let the words she didn’t dare say bubble to the forefront of her mind.

The Doctor was lucky. _She_ was lucky. She’d have time. They both would.

She reached the alley where they’d left the TARDIS and crept in close. She didn’t see that there was another person already there at first. Not until it was too late. Not until she heard the voice.

“Doctor! C’mon, open up, this isn’t funny!”

There was the TARDIS, familiar in its inky blue, but in front of it, pounding on the stubbornly shut door and scowling, stood a stranger. A young woman about her age, with dyed blonde hair and a Union Jack t-shirt. And when she tilted her head back in frustration and her face caught what little light there was, Yaz couldn’t hold back her gasp.

“Who’s there?” the young woman asked, whipping round to face her.

“You’re her,” Yaz whispered, every rule of time travel shattering against her lips as the words spilled out of them. “You’re Rose Tyler.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUUUUUUUN. :) 
> 
> The photo is called St. Paul's Survives, I'll bet you've seen it around in lots of places. It's something that I find weirdly comforting to look at, all these years later. I figured it was worth shifting the timeline of The Empty Child by a few months to coincide with when the photo was taken and going from there. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, leave a comment or kudos if you're so inclined, and if you're looking for ways to help build up some hope yourself, check out https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co


	4. Chapter 4

“How d’you know my name?” Rose asked, her voice insistent but not afraid. For a moment, Yaz could only stare.

“Well, go on, how d’you know who I am?” Rose asked again, crossing her arms with a scowl. “You don’t look like you’re from round here, what are you doing here?”

“I… sorry, weird night. I… I’m a friend of the Doctor’s.”

At that, Rose’s anger melted away, replaced by confusion mixed with a bit of joyous excitement. Yaz’ heart leapt in her throat. Already, after only a few moments, she could tell that Rose was so clever, but so trusting; no wonder her face kept haunting the Doctor’s thoughts.

“Are you?” she said. “Did you see where he’s gone? Only, we’re looking for ‘im, me and Captain Jack.”

Captain Jack was here too? She’d better not run into him and truly muck up the timeline, then…

“Hang on, is he in trouble?” Rose asked. “Did something happen, does he need help?”

Oh, no, where to start with _those_ questions. How much did Rose know just then? Did she know about regeneration yet? Better not get into it, safer not to say too much.

“No, no, the Doctor’s fine,” Yaz said, raising her hands reassuringly, deciding to stick to the Doctor’s name rather than get into any sort of trouble with pronouns. “There’s just been a bit of a… mix up, I think. Time travel, you know… your Doctor’s not here right now, though.”

“My Doctor?” Rose said. “So… you’re also here with the Doctor? Right now?”

“Probably breaking every rule in the book to tell you so,” Yaz said, “but yeah.”

“I know how that goes,” Rose said with a laugh. “Breaking those rules… it’s not pretty.” Yaz couldn’t help but laugh too, even though there was something hollow about the way Rose spoke just then. It seemed she knew, all too well, what the consequences for messing up the laws of time and space were.

For a moment they just stared at each other, sizing each other up a bit. Yaz could see a thousand questions spinning through Rose’s head, and she wanted to answer them all – even if she was positive she absolutely should not do that.

“So are you… from my future, then?” Rose asked. “Sorry – you probably don’t want to say.”

“I think so,” Yaz offered.

“And I… you don’t know me, but you know the Doctor.” Yaz knew where this question was going to go, knew it because it was the same question she had weighing heavy on her shoulders all the time. “What happens to me, then?”

“I dunno,” Yaz answered, keeping her voice soft. “I honestly don’t – though I don’t think the Doctor’d like it if I knew anything and told you about it.”

“Right,” Rose said with a nod. “God, this is mad, innit? Here I am fifty years in my past, talking with someone from my future.”

“Always an adventure with the Doctor,” Yaz replied, her smile bright.

“Well, if he’s not here, I’ll just keep looking then,” Rose said, jerking her thumb over her shoulder the way she’d come. “It was nice meeting you!”

Yaz waved, and Rose began to walk away down the alley in the opposite direction from the one Yaz had entered. But then she stopped, turning to regard Yaz with a knowing stare.

“Does he talk about me?”

“What?”

“The Doctor,” Rose said. “Does he… if you’re in my future, and I’m not… not travelling with ‘im anymore… does he talk about me?”

Yaz’ breath caught in her throat, watching the fear in Rose’s eyes, feeling like she was looking into some sort of fun house mirror. She knew that fear. Knew it intimately. Knew exactly how it felt, wondering just how significant she was to a being so infinitely old, so universally important, loving her with every fibre of her very human soul and knowing it would never hold a candle to the whole of the cosmos.

“The Doctor thinks about you,” Yaz said at last. “All the time.”

“You think so?” Rose asked, one eyebrow furrowed in suspicion.

“I know so.”

Rose nodded, weighing the answer; Yaz watched her face, wondering if what she’d said had an impact, wondering what that impact might be.

“Rose, did you find him? That bomb’s not going to wait all night, you know.”

Yaz ducked quickly into a shadow as Rose turned to find Captain Jack Harkness sauntering down the alley, consulting a device on his wrist.

“No, I was just…”

Yaz held her breath as Rose’s voice trailed off; she must’ve been looking for her, wondering where she’d gone.

“Something wrong?” Jack said.

“No…” A pause. “Anyway, he’s not here. Any other readings on that thing?”

“Yeah, getting quite a stir over at Albion Hospital,” Jack said. “It’s not far, let’s go find your Mr. Spock.”

Yaz shoved a hand over her mouth to contain her laugh at the nickname. Then she waited; one count of ten in her head, another, until the footsteps the pair had left behind finished ringing off the alley walls, until the shadows on the opposite wall stopped moving, until the collective silence of a city holding its breath in wait fell over her. She crept out then, heading towards the TARDIS, bulb device held safe in her hand.

“Hello, friend,” she said, tapping her finger gently against the ship’s door. “I know you’re cross with us, but do you think you could let me in? Just for a second? I promise we’re not interfering.”

For a moment, nothing happened; everything was quiet and still for so long Yaz started to feel like a right idiot for talking to a space ship. But then the door clicked open, and Yaz let out a little triumphant laugh, and pushed through. The ship was gloomy inside, dark, still full of smoke from the sparks that had caused them to crash land. But she could still feel the ship’s presence, waiting for them all like an angry cat.

“Right,” Yaz muttered to herself, “let’s sort this out.”

Around the corner, the Doctor clung to the sooty brick of the wall and bit back a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a sob. Almost as soon as Yaz had vanished, the Doctor had set the boys to climbing up onto the roof she’d indicated and then followed her. It was a dangerous night; she could kick herself for sending Yaz off alone.

She’d had no idea of what she’d sent her companion stumbling into.

Rose Tyler was just around that corner. Her Rose was here, in this universe, whole and alive and only half a street away… and there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t cross her own timeline like this. It was bad enough they’d stumbled this close, bad enough that Yaz had found her.

It had been over a decade since she’d left Rose in a parallel universe for the last time. Twelve Earth years, anyway.

For her, it had been whole lifetimes ago, and yet it still felt, on the very worst days, like mere instants.

She tried to breathe, tried to collect herself, and couldn’t. It was all achingly, glaringly unfair. The universe, it seemed, liked to play with her. Liked to send people – brave, beautiful, clever, kind people – stumbling into her path, liked to get them to become _her_ person, and then rip them away again.

Over and over.

Every time.

She’d lost so much. Her home. Her planet. Her people. Her very sense of self, all gone. And every person she’d ever loved, always out of reach. Eventually, she lost all of them.

Eventually, she was going to lose Yaz, just like she’d lost Rose. She could feel it already, the whole fam shooting her nervous glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. She’d left them, not entirely by choice, and come back, and she was losing them anyway, bit by bit.

It wasn’t _fair_.

“Doctor?”

The Doctor stumbled back, startling at the voice, her head jumbled up enough by the sudden train wreck of grief flooding back through her that, for just an instant, she thought it had been Rose speaking to her. But no, of course it wasn’t – Rose wouldn’t know her in this body. It was Yaz, her Yaz, come back from the task she’d set her to and coming across her feeling sorry for herself.

“Hiya Yaz,” she said, attempting to pull herself together. “Ryan and Graham are all set, just thought I’d come check you were all right.”

“I’m fine, Doctor,” Yaz said, her dark eyes darting all over her face. “Are you?”

“’Course I am,” the Doctor replied in what she hoped was a breezy tone. “Did it work? Did the TARDIS let you in?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” Yaz said. “It’s all dark and gloomy in there, but I think it’ll be all right in a little while.”

“Dark and gloomy?” the Doctor asked, sneaking round Yaz and down the alley. “Think I’ll just have a quick look myself…”

But of course when she pulled on the door handle, it didn’t budge.

“Still mad at me, old girl?” the Doctor said softly, brushing her thumb across the handle’s metal. “Can’t say I blame you, honestly.”

The Doctor and the TARDIS understood each other well, even if they didn’t always speak with what could be called words. This time, though, the voice of her ship was clear as a bell in her head.

_Talk to her, Doctor. Tell her everything. She’ll understand._

The Doctor flinched back from the handle as though it had burned her.

“Doctor!” Yaz said, jogging up, reaching out a hand but then holding back, a question in her eyes. The Doctor smiled; of course Yaz had noticed how reluctant she had been to touch her earlier. Something about getting nearly blown up had brought all that telepathy screaming to the forefront; she couldn’t be sure what Yaz would see if she touched her again. Not right now. Not yet.

“Come on, then,” she said. “Let’s not keep the boys waiting. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmm, all the bittersweet feelings. Bittersweet feelings for days! Poor Doctor really needs a hug and a nap, but she won't let herself have either, will she? 
> 
> ...or will she? ;) 
> 
> Thank you so much for your kind comments so far! I hope you're enjoying, leave a comment or a kudos if you're so inclined, and if you'd like to help the world suck less, some resources can be found here: https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co Also, my fellow book people, check out #BlackoutBestsellerList and buy a book (or three) from a Black author this week! If you need recommendations, please let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

The fires raged.

The sky above London was crowded with smoke as whole streets were set ablaze. Yaz pulled her t-shirt up over her nose and mouth to try and filter out some of the smoke, wishing she had a scarf or a mask she could use instead. All around them, air raid sirens blared and Luftwaffe planes roared, dropping what must’ve been a hundred thousand incendiary bombs on the city. The light was strange; the sky was pitch black and filled with smoke, but the fires were so large, and so widespread, that a horrible kind of orange light leeched up from the ground, reaching towards the rooftops with dancing, ever-shifting fingers.

And through it all, in fits and starts, she could see the dome of St. Paul’s. Not like the photograph, not quite yet, but it was there. It was odd, sitting here in 1940 and knowing what that meant. It was odd, and uncomfortable, standing up against the obvious hatred when she knew there was still so much bigotry to be found on the very streets they defended. When she knew that the Prime Minister currently working below London’s streets in his secret war room was all too happy to use families like hers as cannon fodder and turn around and let them starve by the thousands as thanks. It was odd to keep watch over a cathedral that wasn’t even remotely hers, the slurs and insults she’d learned to brush off her whole life ringing in her ears at the sight of it.

But even through all that, even knowing all that, it was oddest yet to just sit and watch. The Doctor insisted that most of the buildings that burned were offices and warehouses, not residences, but still, watching it, sitting there and just _watching_ the blaze of the fires and the flash of magnesium bombs, settled like a sharp ache in her chest. They weren’t there to save the city, or even the cathedral itself – they were there to watch over one man, one camera, one symbol. She knew that, knew all those other bits of history flooding through her head, and yet watching it all burn, it felt like failure.

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do?” Graham asked.

“We’re doing it,” the Doctor said. Unlike the others, her eyes were fixed not on the fires all around them, but on the rooftop across the alley from them, where Herbert Mason sat in his sandbagged fire watching station. Yaz could see the shine on his camera lens in the firelight. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but that photo is important, fam. Besides, without the TARDIS, there’s not much we’d be able to save, even if we could.”

The Doctor shifted, taking her eyes off Herbert for just a moment to stare out across the charred and crumbling city at their feet. Even in this strange, horrible light, the sight of her took Yaz’ breath away; even in the midst of everything, the Doctor was so beautiful she could hardly stand it. But she looked so sad. Gallifrey burning had been so sharp in her head that she’d shared it unwittingly with Yaz; watching another city on fire must not be helping.

“London burns,” she said. “But not all of it. Not today. You lot, you’re resilient, and you’re bloody stubborn. You sift through all this destruction, all this hate, and you search for the littlest sign that everything will be all right, and you cling to it and say _damn it to hell, we’re not giving up yet_. And then you don’t.”

“It looks like the end of the world down there,” Ryan said. Yaz reached out a hand to squeeze his shoulder, hoping she was comforting, but she knew what he meant.

“But it’s not,” the Doctor insisted, and this time she smiled, blinding bright against the smoke. “You humans, you can be so cruel. So hateful to each other, so destructive. I mean, look at this! All because some people decided that they’re right to be better than everyone else, better than people they decided don’t _count_ as people. But you can also be _so good_. It never stops amazing me, how _much_ you have contained in you. So much kindness, so much art, so much wonder. Even in the face of hate…”

She paused for a moment, her eyes suddenly alight with joy. Yaz followed her gaze; just then, the wind picked up, clearing a path through the smoke, and there, just ahead of them, shining like a full moon, like a lighthouse beacon, was the dome of St. Paul’s, seemingly unharmed by the destruction and chaos around it. Beside her, she heard Graham let out a quiet little laugh and Ryan whisper _whoa_ , both stunned by the sight in front of them.

“…you find a way to break through. Darkness never sustains. Not when there’s someone to fight against it. There’s always farther to go, ’course there is, but you don’t stop. You keep fighting to make things just a little bit better than you found them.”

She met Yaz’ eyes then and smiled; Yaz couldn’t help but smile back, wondering if this was the reason the Doctor kept coming back to Earth over and over. This human capacity to _keep trying_.

“Think he got the photo, Doc?” Graham said, glancing back to the rooftop across the alley.

“Oh, I think so,” she said. “Well done, fam.”

Then, somewhere within the depths of the Doctor’s pockets, a device started beeping.

“Doctor, what is that?” Ryan asked, pushing himself into a crouch, ready to spring.

“It’s the alarm Yaz set up,” she answered, fishing out a matching lightbulb to the one Yaz had set into the TARDIS console, brandishing her screwdriver at the ready. “It’s detected something else that shouldn’t be here, another threat…”

“Look, just there!” Yaz said, tapping the Doctor furiously on the shoulder – only touching her coat – and pointing towards another rooftop across the way.

A dark shape hunched at the edge of the rooftop, angling catty-corner towards Herbert. Yaz couldn’t see who it was in the odd light, but the figure held something she recognized instantly from her training – a sniper rifle.

“Doc, they’re still after him!”

“On it,” the Doctor said, charging forward towards the roofline, sonic screwdriver in hand, whirring away.

“What’s that gonna-” Ryan started frantically, but he received his answer soon enough; the sonic had jammed the weapon, as evidenced by the fact that the would-be assassin tried to fire and ended up having it pop and spark in his face, the recoil smacking into his head and knocking him backwards. He didn’t get up again.

“That’s sorted it, I think,” the Doctor said, staring grimly across towards the spot where the assassin had vanished. “He’s down for the count, and Herbert and our photo will be safe and long gone soon.”

“Should we… deal with him?”

“I think someone’ll find him in the morning and drag him in for questioning,” the Doctor said. “Let him live through the twentieth century if he’s so interested in messing with it.”

“Aw, man,” Ryan said, flopping back to the rooftop with a sigh. “I sort of wanted to punch a Nazi.”

“I’ll get you a balaclava and a short range teleport and take you to a protest in America, how’s that?” the Doctor offered, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Wicked,” Ryan replied, and all four of them laughed as the city around them burned.

They stood watch until dawn began to break over the horizon; Herbert disappeared back into the office, ready to take his photo to his newspaper and share it with the world. The would-be assassin had made no other appearances, the fires had spread where they were supposed to have gone and no further, and of course no gas mask zombies erupted from the East End.

History had been set back on track once again.

The Doctor led her sleepy fam back towards the TARDIS in the quiet gloom of the morning. They were all exhausted, streaked with smoke, coughing a bit from their odd night. She made a mental note to have them all visit the med bay for a quick check before their next stop; couldn’t have them all suffering from smoke inhalation on her watch.

London felt deserted, apocalyptic, and, tired as she was, she had to remind herself that the streets around her were streaked with grey, that it was broken glass and cobblestones and not red sand beneath her feet.

Everywhere she went, destruction. Every time, she alone was not enough to salvage anything. She’d lost so much and it was eating at her. She’d lost so much, so many times, and the lines between it all were blurring.

The TARDIS was a sight for sore eyes, her blue a balm in a sea of grey and smoke. She stepped ahead of the fam and pressed her hands against the doors, gently, asking permission.

“Hello, old girl,” she whispered. “Sorry about all this, I really am. Can we come back in now?”

She paused for a moment, looking up at the dark windows of her ship.

“Can I come home?”

The lights inside came on, the glow soft and bright, and the latch clicked open beneath her hands. She smiled, almost reverently, stepping inside.

_Talk to them,_ she heard her ship insist. _Let them in. You don’t have to be alone anymore._

“Right,” she murmured. Annoyingly, she knew her ship was right. But the enormity of it all… it seemed so much easier to just press on, to keep running like she always did and never ever look back.

Even though it always seemed to catch up with her.

The fam trooped in behind her, their tired faces lighting up a bit at the sight of the ship.

“Good to be back,” Graham said with a weary nod. “I’d appreciate not being knocked about like that again, though, d’you hear?”

He pointed at the console with a halfway reproachful tone, and they all thought they heard the ship burble an apology in response. Ryan, after first getting a quick nod of permission from the Doctor, gently patted the console like he might have pet a dog who’d done a good trick.

Exhausted, the boys trundled off to bed, and the Doctor began her dance round the console again, slower this time than before. Even she was worn out, but she didn’t need much in the way of sleep. Knew she wouldn’t get it anyway. She set them on a long course towards Sheffield, figuring she could let them all sleep off the night’s adventures before returning them home. When she’d finished, she turned and saw that Yaz hadn’t gone off to sleep like the others. Instead, she sat at the TARDIS door, staring out into space as they drifted almost lazily through it.

“All right, Yaz?” the Doctor asked.

Yaz turned and looked up at her, and the Doctor hovered on the ramp, not sure if she should move, a thousand sentences half-started and abandoned in her head. But then Yaz smiled, patted the spot next to her, and the Doctor’s frozen limbs melted. She sat down next to her and stared out into the swirling dark of space, dotted a million times over with stars.

“I met her,” Yaz said. “Rose Tyler.”

“Ah,” the Doctor said, still not looking at Yaz, not quite sure where this conversation was going to go, not sure she had enough left in her to obfuscate.

“You were right,” Yaz continued. “I liked her.”

And then she waited; the Doctor could feel her patient gaze on the side of her face, could feel the smoke of London and the red grit of Gallifrey mixing in her lungs and all dredging up to the surface… She closed her eyes, blacking out the swirl of space in front of her.

“Doctor?” Yaz asked, her voice very soft.

“Rose understood,” she finally said. “I’d been so very alone when I met her, and she _understood_ , the way no one else had, for so long, and I… she made me better, Yaz. She did.”

“What happened to her?”

“She’s in a parallel universe with her family and a humanoid clone version of me. Well, another-another me. Not the one with the ears.”

A soft laugh from her companion finally got her to look up at her; even soot-streaked and exhausted, Yaz’ face shone in the starlight from outside the ship, beautiful and precious.

“Sorry,” she said, sheepish. “Didn’t mean to laugh. You’d think I’d get used to hearing all sorts of wild things from you, but you never stop surprising me.”

“Full of surprises, me,” the Doctor replied.

“You must miss her,” Yaz prodded gently.

“All the time,” the Doctor found herself admitting. “I miss all of them. All of _you_ – I still have you here and I miss you already, Yaz.”

“I’m here, though, Doctor,” Yaz insisted, leaning in. “I’m right here.”

“I can’t hold on forever,” she said, turning back to the galaxies and worlds spinning softly past outside. “There’s so much and it all just… slips through my hands, and I can’t…”

She faltered, stopped, staring at her hands in the light of the stars. Her throat was gummed up, and much to her consternation she found that she was crying. Dammit, this was why crossing her own time stream was a bloody bad idea.

“Sorry,” she muttered, swiping at her cheeks with her sleeve.

“It’s all right, Doctor,” Yaz said. “You don’t… you don’t have to pretend to be okay all the time, you know.”

“’M’fine,” she insisted.

“You’re _not_ ,” Yaz snapped back, and the Doctor turned to see the younger woman looking up at her with fiery intensity in her dark eyes. “You’re not and we can see it and we’re worried about you, Doctor. _I’m_ worried about you. We’re here for you, all of us, you know that, right? We’re your family. We just want to help.”

“I…” the Doctor stammered, caught in the web of her own grief and the insistence in Yaz’ eyes. “I’ve lost so much, Yaz. I don’t… I can’t… where do I even start?”

“Hey,” Yaz said gently, “it’s all right, not to know. I’m here.”

The Doctor sniffed, tried to look away, but Yaz wouldn’t let her. She leaned forward, meeting her eyes with a determined smile, love and comfort shining from her face.

“I can’t promise forever, I know that,” she said. “I’m human, after all. But I have right now. I’m _here_ right now. And I…” She swallowed hard around some words she seemed not quite ready to say, words the Doctor was not quite ready to hear, but she knew. “And I’m not going anywhere, all right? I’m yours, Doctor, as long as you’ll have me. If you don’t know where to start…”

She paused, and then held out her hand, palm-up, towards the other woman.

“Maybe let’s start there?”

The Doctor looked at Yaz, and looked at her hand, knowing she knew exactly what she was offering, knowing just how much that meant. She looked at Yaz, at the love and the hope in her eyes, and she let herself smile back, just the tiniest bit. She let herself reach out, slot their fingers together. Yaz’ hand, warm and soft in hers. A beacon of hope. A lifeline.

She clung on tight, for a long time, and she did not let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end! Thanks so much for coming on this ride with me, friends.
> 
> I'm a bit nervous about this chapter, I must say - there's some aspects of history I felt I couldn't ignore but it's also not my place to speak from that perspective either. If I've put my foot in it there, I sincerely apologize. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading! I had a good time writing this one and I hope you enjoyed it. Comments and kudos are appreciated as always, be kind to each other and take care of yourselves, and take a look at https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co if you are interested in helping the world be a bit more hopeful.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I've bent canon ever so slightly for this fic, but I have a good reason for it which will hopefully become apparent. And I've only moved things a few months, from winter 1941 to December of 1940. 
> 
> The title of this is also the title of a song from the 1940s by Vera Lynn which gets used in all the WWII media, but I couldn't help myself. 
> 
> I hope this isn't too frivolous to add, but my country is slightly on fire at the moment - and rightfully so - and, well, this is one forum to spread awareness. If you're looking for ways to help, there are a number of resources at this link: https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co
> 
> Thanks for reading, comments and kudos appreciated as always!


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